


when you get tired and you’ve got no place else to hide

by Attempted Eloquence (ringsiderage)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Constipation, Heartbreak, Helpless Liam Dunbar, Homeless Theo Raeken, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Leaving Beacon Hills, M/M, Post-Canon, Relationship Study, Theo Raeken is Liam Dunbar's Anchor, Unhealthy Relationships, and coming back again, and fucking up in the process, learning how to move on from a world of hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 17:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30092448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ringsiderage/pseuds/Attempted%20Eloquence
Summary: Liam asks, “Are you going to stay this time?”A naive hope always lingers in this routine, in Liam’s foolish conviction that this time will be different. That this time, Theo’s truck will remain in the driveway, that the last vestiges of the chimera won’t be receding headlights and the rumbling of an engine.It’s a sad disguise: Liam resting his chin in his free hand with a casual grin stretching onto his lips as he gazes at the dead-end boy lying atop his bedspread like he simply asked if Theo has any plans this weekend.Theo doesn’t tear his gaze from the television, hollow as ever when he finally parts his lips to speak.“Nah, I don’t think I will,” he shrugs.Familiar routine like reading from an old script, pages yellowing with age.“Okay,” Liam says, offering a jerky nod. That grin feels a little tighter on his face, too manufactured. “That’s fine.”
Relationships: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken
Comments: 32
Kudos: 138





	when you get tired and you’ve got no place else to hide

**Author's Note:**

> the fic title is from the Attic Abasement song Show Up To Leave which for some reason screamed Thiam to me when I listened to it the other day (aka i’m totally projecting onto a song that isn’t related to Theo and Liam at all lmao)

_-You’ve never lived until you run thru the woods away from a group of hunters (game hunters, not weres) tht think they’re gonna mount yr head above their fucking entertainment system until they see you turn into a butt ass naked human being b4 their eyes_

_-Yes ik “butt ass” is redundant, I said what I said_

Liam snorts down at his phone, can’t help the grin curling onto his lips at the message. He would chastise the choice of shifting in front of humans, the risk that it poses, but knows Theo is more than capable of taking care of himself. Usually.

He taps out a quick reply: _tell me more abt that tonite?_

It’s less of a question and more a confirmation. Liam’s long since learned by now that Theo only texts him―and only replies to his texts―when he wants a bed for the night. It would bother Liam more, were it not for the fact that he’s pretty sure Theo never learned how to ask for help. This is the closest he’ll get, a little thumbs-up emoji in return. 

“Yeesh, is my story about removing a two-foot piece of rebar from a patient’s thigh in the ER today that boring?” David asks, shooting a pointed look across the dinner table at his stepson. 

Jenna quips, “You’ve gotta do better than grotesque medical trauma to keep our teenage werewolf engaged.” 

“Sorry, I…” Liam drops his phone back into his lap, glancing between his parents, “I think Theo’s coming over tonight.” 

They fall silent, the smiles on their faces faltering. Briefly.

“Should we make him a plate?” Jenna asks, perhaps gripping the fork in her hand a little more tightly. Perhaps wondering if she’ll spend another morning cleaning up the mess Theo leaves (Liam, broken) in his wake. 

To their credit, Jenna and David held out as long as they could, latching onto the belief that the more support, the more love and affection they extended toward Theo, the more likely he’d be to accept their offer of a home more permanent than his backseat. But devotion turned him prickly. Eventually Theo stopped coming through the front door, couldn’t divert their attempts at charity so he avoided their presence altogether. 

(Liam keeps his bedroom window unlocked for this reason. Sometimes in his dreams he hears it sliding open in the middle of the night, feels the phantom touch of lips against his forehead, the cool breeze signaling departure. He thinks they are dreams. He hopes they are dreams.)

Sometimes they ask about him. They still keep the guest room ready, and always put aside a meal, leave the alarm off on nights that Theo decides to warn Liam of his visits. What else can you do when your son loves a boy that doesn’t love himself? 

“Yeah,” Liam nods, pushing around the food on his plate. “Yeah, that’d be nice, thanks.” 

*

“And before running ‘butt ass naked’ through Paso Robles, where were you?” 

Liam tries to keep his tone light, doesn’t want to sound desperate. Even if he is. Even if sometimes when Theo’s gone too long he starts worrying that he’s dead, that the emptiness he’s seen in those eyes on the worst nights finally got the best of him, or that he’s at last chosen to leave and never come back. 

(Maybe those all mean the same thing. Theo, not here. Liam, here, without him.)

Theo rolls over onto his side, a sleepy grin tugging at his lips as he nudges the beta hand with his forehead. Liam obliges this silent request, carding his fingers through the drying hair. He had forced Theo into taking a shower before allowing him on the bed. Theo tugged Liam into the bathroom with him, tugged him out of his clothes, tugged him into the shower even though he wasn’t the dirty one, tugged at his heartstrings with those sad, empty eyes. Liam obliged these silent requests as well. 

Without the layer of dirt and grime clinging to his skin, the dark circles stamped beneath Theo’s eyes are too evident. Liam wishes he could scrub those away, too. 

“Montana. I was in Montana,” Theo answers. “A few nights there I laid under the stars in the bed of my truck―” 

He interrupts himself with a yawn, continuing, “There’s a great view of the sky from the Hi-line. It was beautiful, I wish you would’ve seen it. Not as much light pollution as out here.”

“That’s far,” Liam murmurs, something like retroactive separation anxiety clawing at his throat. 

“A little.” 

Liam’s not sure which he means. A little far from here. A little far from him. 

He tries to wrap his mind around the idea of Theo driving 20-some-odd hours away to lose himself for a while before finding his way back to Liam like he always does. Like the way compasses always point north. 

Liam sometimes wonders if this is because he admitted to Theo―after the war, after the dust settled, after Theo realized that there’s nothing tying him to Beacon Hills―that he’s Liam’s anchor. Sometimes he wonders if that anchoring goes both ways, keeping Liam grounded and keeping Theo here, albeit sparingly. 

“Do you have pictures?” 

Theo shakes his head. “Tried. They came out shitty, camera isn't good enough to pick up stars.” 

The chimera’s eyes droop shut only to snap back open and blearily refocus on the television, some wildlife show droning on. Liam doesn’t know how long he’s been doing this―staving off sleep, martyring himself. Hopefully not since the last time he was here, close to two weeks ago. Liam doesn't want to be needed in that way. 

The last time Theo came into town―

(Can he say that? “Came into town.” Sometimes Liam thinks the only place Theo ever really leaves is this bedroom, that the only thing he’s leaving is Liam.)

―they had been watching one of those survival shows, the type where adults are abandoned in the wilderness to test their endurance. Theo had boasted about being able to outlast even the best competitors on those programs with ease. Liam wanted to, but did not argue that Theo shouldn’t need to know how to do that. To survive, alone. To endure, alone. To live, alone. Instead, he allowed Theo that little bit of pride. He’s not sure that the chimera gets much of it these days. 

Tonight, however, is not one of those nights with room for pride. 

“Hey, Theo?”

He makes a small, tired noise. It says, _I’m listening._

Liam asks, “Are you going to stay this time?” 

A naive hope always lingers in this routine, in Liam’s foolish conviction that this time will be different. That this time, Theo’s truck will remain in the driveway, that the last vestiges of the chimera won’t be receding headlights and the rumbling of an engine. 

It’s a sad disguise: Liam resting his chin in his free hand with a casual grin stretching onto his lips as he gazes at the dead-end boy lying atop his bedspread like he simply asked if Theo has any plans this weekend. 

Theo doesn’t tear his gaze from the television, hollow as ever when he finally parts his lips to speak. 

“Nah, I don’t think I will,” he shrugs.

Familiar routine like reading from an old script, pages yellowing with age. 

“Okay,” Liam says, offering a jerky nod. That grin feels a little tighter on his face, too manufactured. “That’s fine.” 

He pauses. 

“I wish you would, though.” (I miss you.)

Theo grunts. It says, _I’m not listening._

*

When Liam finally looks up from the page of physics notes he’s been staring at for the past ten minutes without comprehending, he’s greeted by Mason’s concerned gaze. 

_“What?”_

Mason flinches at the harsh tone, and that...feels like shit. Feels like Liam is shit. Feels like Liam can’t work through this shit.

“He came back, didn’t he?” Mason guesses, face molded into a cautious rendition of sympathy. 

Liam softens, offering a nearly imperceptible nod. This conversation, too, a familiar routine. 

“How was that? How was...he, I mean?” 

Innocent question enough, but there’s something more lurking beyond the surface. Like, _you didn’t wake up to him trying to claw open his chest in the middle of a nightmare, right?_ Or, _he didn’t say mean words with a pretty face like he sometimes does to get you to kick him out, right?_ Or, _you didn’t ask him to stay again, right?_

(Liam wishes the answer to all of these questions was no.) 

“He’s Theo,” Liam shrugs. All he ever is, is leaving. “He was gone by morning.” 

Mason nods, exhaling.

“Listen―”

“Mase, please, just drop it,” Liam pleads.

“No. You've been doing this―whatever it is―for the better half of a year, Li,” the human argues. “Both as your sorta-boyfriend and as your anchor it’s a shitty thing for him to expect you to let him come in and out of your life whenever he wants.” 

Sorta-boyfriend. Liam mulls that over, wonders if that’s what Theo is. If that’s what it means when Theo slinks back into Beacon Hills to creep into his room at night, to bury his nose in Liam’s hair like he couldn’t stand to be without Liam’s scent for a while. If that’s what it means when Theo whispers, _I wish you were there with me_ , but never chooses to stay. 

“And I know he has his own issues, but maybe you should set some boundaries? Or at least...have a conversation about it. You’re not happy like this, and you’ve got more important things to think about, like college and shit.” 

Liam lets out a muffled groan, burying his face into his hands. Says, “This isn’t gonna help at all with my physics test next period. 

“Well, dude, maybe if you weren’t entertaining the company of a certain nomadic chimera, you would’ve been able to study last night,” Mason shrugs.

Perhaps it’s revelatory of where Liam’s priorities lie that the first thought that pops into his head is, _I wonder if Theo knows anything about physics, if he could’ve helped me study_. 

“Aw, c’mon,” Mason scoffs, “You’re getting that dreamy look on your face again, you’re totally thinking about him and not―” 

Mason snatches the study sheet away, reading aloud, “Hooke’s law, stress and strain.” 

Liam raps his knuckles against the library table. 

“Yeah, no clue. I’ll take the F.” 

“Stress is proportional to strain,” Mason sighs, sliding the paper back toward him. 

“Oh. Right,” the wolf nods. 

Like, the more Liam stresses to Theo that he should kick his pride to the curb and move out of his own backseat, the more strained their relationship becomes.

Liam suspects, although the chimera won’t tell him this much, that Theo doesn’t believe he deserves a life consisting of more than empty roads and permanent transience. That whatever he experienced in the Skinwalkers prison taught him that he deserves to suffer. Liam has tried to teach him otherwise, late at night in the company of only each other, those few instances when Theo allows himself to be treated gently, when Theo falls asleep to Liam’s fingers in his hair and soft words whispered into his ear. 

(He’s not sure that the lessons stick.) 

“Go to the nurse’s office. Fake sick or something and retake it later,” Mason relents as the bell rings. “But think about what I said, alright?”

*

_My parents won’t be home til rlly late tonite_

_I need you, come by later?_

The manipulation laced into those words doesn’t sit well with Liam. Even if it’s true that he’ll be alone in the house with only the negative space Theo leaves behind, this isn’t exactly how you invite someone over to tell them that your “on an as-needed basis” relationship isn’t working anymore. He backspaces, tries again. 

_Can we talk?_

But no, that still leaves room for Theo to wriggle his way out, for avoidance. He’ll be more firm, more direct this time. 

_-Home alone, come over._

He hits send before he can second-guess the message.

(There it is, that thumbs up in return.) 

*

Liam can’t quite reconcile the ache in his chest at seeing a contented little smile spread across Theo’s lips just because he offered the chimera the leftover crust from his slices of delivery pizza. 

Theo restricts himself to two slices even though Liam offered him the rest of the box. Even though he gazes hungrily at the remainders. He does this sometimes. Too often. Limits himself and saves the leftovers like he plans on rationing the rest to make it last once he leaves again. He’s pretty sure Theo only spends money on gas, on any means to keep him moving, to avoid settling down in one spot for too long. To avoid staying with Liam for too long. 

(Liam doesn’t point out that Theo wouldn’t have to worry about gas money and rationing food if he’d just stay here. That much is obvious.)

And even then, he’s not sure where the money comes from―

_“You’re asking how I get by?” Theo mutters, quirking a brow._

_Liam nods wordlessly, biting back every other question wanting to force their way past his lips. Like, do you think about me as much as I think about you? Or, what are you running away from? And, am I not enough to make you stay for good?_

_Theo flashes an insincere grin, one that shouldn’t look as charming as it does when he’s sporting dark circles that look more like bruises and eyes that are as empty as the gaze he trains on Liam._

_“I’ve taken up black market art dealing,” he supplies. “No, wait. I’m...a bomb technician.”_

_“Theo.”_

_He continues, “Ah, how about this: professional clinical trial subject―”_

_“Can you be serious for once?” Liam blurts._

_“Aw, you worrying about me, pup?”_

_Whatever playful mirth Theo managed to summon into his expression dulls when Liam says yes._

_“Well, don’t.”_

―but broaching that topic is to traipse down a dead end. (Liam opts to instead believe Theo is his own Robin Hood. There’s something noble in that. He hopes there is.) 

Theo tugs him closer, arms circling around Liam’s waist as they sink deeper into the couch. 

“D’you wanna watch a movie or something?” he murmurs against Liam’s neck. 

Liam stiffens, only slightly, and shakes his head. 

“I was actually hoping that we could talk,” he states. 

“Talk,” Theo repeats, uncertainty creeping into his voice. Liam cranes his neck to regard the chimera, trails a soft gaze over his face like the look is enough to smooth out the concerned crease in his forehead, the tense set of his jaw. 

It’s the same expression he makes when Liam pushes too hard, gets too grandiose in his claims that Theo is good, that he can do good, that he deserves good things. It’s the expression of a boy who bares teeth in the face of kindness, even when coming from Liam. 

Liam, who took him aside after the war and hugged him gingerly so as to avoid the bullet wound in his shoulder. Liam, who couldn’t work up the guts to kiss him in the elevator when he wanted to so figured the next best thing would be in the hospital corridor once they won, once they came out of it alive. Liam, who Theo melted into and whispered a tremulous “okay” when asked to stay.

(Liam, who worries that he spent too much time hating Theo when he could’ve been offering him all the compassion he’s lacked for so long in his life. Maybe then things would’ve turned out differently. Maybe that’s why Theo never believes him.)

“I can’t...I don’t want to keep doing this with you.”

“What, eating pizza and cuddling? Sorry, we could do something less sedentary if you want,” Theo winks, hands sliding lower until Liam scoots just out of reach. 

“I’m not joking,” Liam mumbles. He takes a breath, tries to scramble for a way to get through this conversation without emotional casualties. “No more of this back and forth thing. I, um, I need you to be here permanently. Or, not be here at all.” 

(Here, his house. Here, his life. Here, his thoughts.) 

“You’re telling me where I can and can’t go now, then?” Theo huffs, a coldness creeping into his tone.

“I’m not...I’m not trying to do that! I’m―”

_Setting boundaries._

“I just mean with me. Look, you know I’d rather you stay. I want you here so badly, Theo,” Liam breathes, “but you...don’t want to be. Or, it feels like you don’t want to. So if I’m the only reason you’re coming back, then maybe you just...shouldn’t.” 

Theo nods slowly, lips twisting into a bitter grin. 

“Alright,” he stands. “Thanks for the pizza.” 

That’s far from what Liam expected, such an easy relinquishment of what felt like a good thing. Perhaps he was naive going into this expecting more of a fight. Expecting Theo to see him as something more than temporary shelter, a meal, and a warm body to lay beside. 

A little pit of despair forms in Liam’s gut. He stands, backtracking, “Wait, please, I’m not asking you to leave. I’m trying to tell you that I want you to choose to be here. With me.”

“How romantic,” Theo quips with a dry tone that cuts like a knife. He glances past Liam’s head toward the door. 

If it’s harsh words that’ll keep his feet rooted here more than gentle ones, so be it. 

“You’re so fucking stubborn you know that?” 

That grabs his attention. Impassive face, but sharp eyes trained on Liam. 

“I mean, you have so many people around you that are desperate to offer help. The pack, Melissa, Sheriff Stilinski, my parents. Me,” Liam seethes, “But instead you choose to wallow in your own victimhood and live a shitty life until you get tired of it and crawl back to my room for a night.”

Liam wants to think he didn’t imagine the flash of hurt across his face. But as much as he wants a reaction, he doesn’t want his words to have caused Theo any pain either. The chimera’s had enough of that.

“And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what we did to you. I’m sorry that we thought it was okay to let you suffer. I’m sorry that you still feel like that’s your only option and that ―”

A humorless bark of laughter pushes past Theo’s throat, all grating and wrong. 

“You done with your psychoanalysis, Freud?” 

_Defense mechanism_ , Liam reminds himself as he bites back a growl. _It’s a defense mechanism._

“It’s not fair to me. You think you’re the only one that you’re fucking over but you’re doing it to me too,” he continues. “Every time you take off again, you’re doing it to me.” 

Theo stalks forward, a numb sort of desperation in his eyes when he takes Liam’s face into his hands, brushing their lips together before he pulls away. 

“Sorry, Li. Let me make it up to you?” he breathes, closing the distance between them once more. There’s an unspoken clause implied in that question: _before I leave._

Liam lets Theo deepen the kiss, lets him nip at his lower lip, lets his hands snake wherever he wants, lets Theo tell pretty lies with his touch until his dick catches up to his brain and he’s shoving the chimera away. 

“Stop it,” Liam snaps. “Stop doing that.”

Borrowing his love and tossing it to the side whenever he’s satiated. 

They never got good at this talking thing, no matter how many nights they spent in each other’s company. Liam sometimes wishes he’d spent more time learning how to be Theo’s friend before learning how to provide comfort with open legs and a receptive mouth. 

“You want to take the lead this time? Be my guest.” 

“No, I want you to talk to me,” Liam snarls, shoving Theo backfirst against the wall, rattling the family photos hanging there. 

The corners of Theo’s lips quirk upward, he lets out a husky whisper of, “Talk to which parts of you?” 

His hands on Liam’s hips feel like a brand and he knows he’s hard against Theo’s leg and he knows that desire is clouding the scent of his own rage and he knows that the one hand around Theo’s throat and the other on his ass are sending mixed signals. 

(And he knows that Theo will use this against him.) 

“Theo,” he growls, means it as a warning, not an invitation. Not this time. The chimera ruts against him, lips all pink and tempting when a tongue darts out to wet them. 

So Liam does the only thing that his lust-addled mind can come up with: smashing his forehead against Theo’s nose with a sharp crack just as he had leaned in to kiss him. 

Theo spills red all over his t-shirt and Liam shouldn’t feel bad about it―about the fact that Theo might have to debate between a trip to the laundromat or a trip out of Beacon Hills unless Liam offers up his washing machine―but he does. And, god, he shouldn’t look this stunning grinning at Liam with a bloody mouth and crooked nose, but he does. 

This―yearning, wanting, loving―is messy. This is burning. 

Theo’s voice comes out all clogged and nasally when he asks, “Wanna take this upstairs?” 

(Yes.) 

(No.)

“I want you to leave,” Liam whispers. He takes a step back, hands clenched at his sides because otherwise they’d be finding their way back to Theo, helping set his nose in place. Or pulling him closer to kiss the ache away. “Please. Just leave.” 

The only indication that Theo feels anything beyond inconvenienced, teased, strung along, is the scent of shock wafting toward Liam before Theo clamps down on that tiny hint of emotion as well. Face blank like he’s never learned how to emote properly. 

There aren’t any words this time. Just Theo brushing past him, the front door slamming shut, and the sound of a truck rumbling away. Liam draws a long breath in and lets out a shuddery exhale, but it sounds more like a sob.

Two splotches of blood mar the white carpet where Theo had been standing. The ghost of warm fingertips linger on Liam’s waist. The leftover pizza meant to be a takeaway is still in its box on the living room table. The smell makes Liam nauseous. 

(Or maybe it’s these small traces of Theo left behind that are doing that.) 

*

“So you told him to fuck off,” Mason surmises, twirling strands of cafeteria spaghetti around his fork. 

“I didn’t say ‘fuck off’ I asked him to stay and he wouldn’t listen,” Liam argues, “So...I told him to leave.”

That’s the abridged version of events, but the group doesn’t need to hear about the less palatable parts of the evening. 

Corey snorts, “That’s basically an implied fuck off.” 

Liam shoots a pleading look to Alec from across the lunch table. 

“...I plead the fifth,” the younger beta garbles out around a half-chewed meatball. “You think he’s coming back? Or, do you want him to?” 

“Liam’s mom called him in sick to school yesterday because he was so broken up about Theo,” Mason answers in his place. He turns to Liam, adding, “You’ve got it bad, bud. And you know what cures lovesickness? Theo Raeken never showing his pretty face around here again unless he’s planning on staying.” 

His mom called him in sick because she and David came home at 1 a.m. from their banquet to find Liam in tears with a bottle of cleaner in his trembling hand, kneeling over a bloodstain that he couldn’t figure out how to remove from the otherwise pristine carpet. He’s had better nights. 

“That’s not fair to say,” he mutters, sullenly pushing around the pasta on his plate. 

It seems objectively wrong to force Theo away from the only place he’s willingly sought comfort in since being brought back from the Skinwalkers prison―

(That place that brings him nightmares he won’t talk to Liam about, that place whose mention shuts Theo down, that glazes his eyes over and makes him go quiet like he’s lost all his words. Like he’s lost himself.) 

―even if it brings Liam himself more pain than solace. 

“And, I don’t know,” Liam answers in response to Alec’s question. “I don’t know if I want him to come back.” 

He thinks he wants Theo to be happy, that’s all. But he isn’t sure if Theo can be that here. Living in this town that swallowed him whole. 

*

_Theo was half-asleep when he suggested it, when he jolted from bed and dragged Liam into the bathroom with a whiny complaint of, “my hair’s too long, it keeps tickling the back of my neck and I think something’s touching me. I can’t sleep like this.”_

_(Liam thinks that Theo’s sudden desire to shave his head is more of an intentional distraction from sleep than anything else. He plays along, though.)_

_“Geez, it has gotten long,” Liam murmurs, combing his fingers through the wavy locks. He glances at the bathroom mirror in front of them, snorting at the way Theo’s bangs have flopped down far enough to touch his eyelashes. He couldn’t tell before, with the way Theo kept it tucked behind his ears._

_Liam turns back toward him. “You should keep it. I like it.”_

_Theo grins, but rifles through the drawers and shoves the electric clippers into Liam’s palm anyway._

_“Can’t,” he says. “If I do that it’d probably be down to my shoulders by the next time you see me.”_

_Liam falters, expression falling somewhat. By the next time you see me, Theo said. Meaning, remember, this bliss is temporary. Meaning, I’ll be gone and you won’t know how long and you should understand that by now._

_“Right. That probably wouldn’t suit you anyway,” Liam mutters, turning on the clippers so that the noisy buzz puts an end to this conversation. Tries not to sulk over something as small as not being able to witness Theo’s hair growing._

_When it’s done and they’re standing in little piles of chestnut-colored hair, Theo beams all sincere and bright, pressing a kiss to the edge of Liam’s jaw as he whispers, “thank you.”_

_Liam aches like he cut away the ties binding them together as well. He aches, like he already knows he’ll be finding pieces of Theo’s hair in the little corners and crevices of his life long after he’s left again._

*

_-Gotta story to tell whenever you wanna hear it_

_-And pics_

Liam’s staring at his blinking cursor and trying to feel something other than spineless. Before he manages to reply―or ignore the messages―another one comes through. A photo, one of a beautiful waterfall spilling into a clear lake in the middle of what looks like a secluded trail shrouded by thick conifers. 

_-There’s more where tht came from_

Liam wants to smile at the way Theo’s tempting him with nature pictures like he’s soliciting nude photos. Wants to, but clamps down on his lower lip just as the grin threatens to flit onto his face. 

It’s been a while. Nearly two months spent staring out his bedroom window at night thinking that Theo, the drifter asshole that he is, would at last slip through it once again. His scent on Liam’s pillows faded too quickly last time.

Anger gives way to relief gives way to exasperation. He types out a response. Deletes it. Types it out again. Let’s his thumb hover over the backspace out of indecision.

He caves: _Pretty. Cya later._

Old habits die hard. As much as Liam hates this, he cannot pass up an opportunity to be close to him again. 

(He will convince himself that it’s only because Theo’s his anchor, that he needs his presence to stay in control. He will convince himself of this even if he knows otherwise.)

*

“Oh, those are from…” Theo trails off, squinting at the camera roll Liam’s scrolling through like all of his travels blur together. “I spent a week or two just outside Mammoth Lakes―” 

“Wait, isn’t the camping super expensive there?” Liam frowns, lifting his head from Theo’s chest to glance back at him. 

Theo bobs his head, little private smile spilling across his lips. 

He wanted to be consumed by white-hot rage when Theo showed up. Wanted to resume their fight where it left off so long ago. But he couldn’t, not when Theo wasted no time in folding his body around Liam’s like he was trying to lose himself in the other boy’s skin. Or the quiet, _hi,_ that he breathed into Liam’s mouth as a greeting. Not when Theo allowed Liam to tug on the scraggly strands of his overgrown bangs with a murmur of, _time for a trim._

(Not when he missed Theo so much.) 

“Yeah, I full-shifted and snuck in,” he answers, running a hand over the back of his freshly-buzzed head in a gesture that almost seems bashful. “I actually befriended a lovely couple―” 

“Befriended humans? As a wolf?” 

That gentle smile on his lips quirks upward into more of a smirk. An expression more recognizable on Theo’s face than the saccharine openness he’s displayed to Liam since climbing through the window like he’s trying to make up for lost time. 

(Or, Liam hopes, like something more than the length of his hair has changed about him.) 

“More like an extra-large coyote,” he corrects, “but, alright, maybe I scared them away from their campsite long enough to take some food while they hid in their RV.”

“Theo, what the fuck,” Liam exclaims, laughter bubbling from his throat. He sets aside the phone, nuzzling closer to Theo’s side and letting his eyes fall shut. This, he thinks, could be dangerous. Staking claim to a fleeting comfort.

“It’s not like I was violent, just showed a little teeth. They had a fire going and had these little sliders with pickles and cheese―god, you should’ve been there, they were so good―and this cinnamon apple crisp thing with little granola bits and it was still warm and―” 

Liam can hear the grin in his voice as Theo recounts the story and nearly convinces himself that the chimera is happy like this. He tells it like running through the woods as an animal and stealing picked-at meals isn’t a product of his own homelessness. He tells it like living on roadsides is enjoyable. 

Liam cracks an eye open, gazing up at him. There’s a hollowness to his face, and he looks a bit leaner. Far from gaunt, but Liam second-guesses if he’s always been able to feel this many ribs beneath his fingertips pressed against Theo’s side. 

“There are even natural hot springs there. Hot springs. I didn't know those existed in California―”

He’s more talkative than usual, like the extra time away kept him cooped up with only himself as company for too long. Like he’s held all his words in and saved them for Liam. 

Liam idly wonders what Theo will do, who he’ll crawl into bed with and tell these stories to once he moves into the dorms in a couple months; just after graduation, beginning summer training for Cal Poly’s lacrosse team. 

(Oh, Liam realizes. This is the change. Not hair or weight or even demeanor. It’s Liam, leaving. Theo, staying behind.)

He sits up, shattering their perfect illusion with his abrupt interruption of, “How much longer are you going to do this for?”

Liam cringes at his own delivery. Always too blunt, always stamping out Theo’s little scraps of self-content with his clumsy words. 

The grin on Theo’s face flickers, then tightens into something more artificial. He plays dumb. 

“Sorry, my story dragging on too long for you? The pictures show better than I can tell, anyway.”

“You know what I mean,” Liam sighs, picking at a loose thread on his bedspread. The only story that drags on too long is the make-believe one of Theo enjoying this lonely, fickle existence. 

“You can’t live like this forever.” 

Liam watches Theo close himself off at the words, his expression slackening into apathy. 

He says, “It’s a good thing I won’t live forever then, isn’t it.” 

This conversation is a road that ends. Liam takes another route.

“This town’s no good,” Liam remarks. “It’s just a tangle of pain and bad memories and our blood and I think that if it weren’t for my friends and family I would’ve run away by now too.”

A city landmarked by ceaseless strife. 

Theo is looking at him now, eyes wide and mouth half-parted because this isn't how the script goes. He doesn’t know his next line. 

Liam whispers, “Do you mean it when you say that you wish I was with you? Wherever you go?” 

Theo draws in a sharp inhale, averting his eyes like meeting Liam’s honest gaze threatens to rip him in half. Slowly, he nods. 

(It takes Liam’s breath away. It does. The idea that Theo wants to escape everything except for him. That he’s the sole thing worth dragging along.) 

A bundle of emotion unravels inside of him, falling apart at the seams. How badly he wants to get to know Theo Raeken outside of the supernatural pressure-cooker of Beacon Hills. How badly he wants to view stars and waterfalls and forests without walking through battle-trodden grounds. How badly he wants to see the boy without ghosts lingering in his eyes. 

In uncharted territory you must proceed with caution. He murmurs, “I’m moving. At the end of June―uh, for school―to San Luis Obispo. I don’t know if there are hot springs there.”

Theo doesn’t say anything, but the twitch of his lips like a half-suppressed smile are encouraging enough. 

“I mean, I’ll be living in a dorm,” Liam breathes, “but...it’d be nice for you to be there, in the city, with me. To stay.” 

Where they don’t have to be two boys that got outed in their town for being something other than human. Where they don’t see their old wounds imprinted in the terrain. Where they can learn to forgive themselves for the ugliness a small, unlucky town brought out in them. 

Theo’s silent long enough that Liam hopes he might’ve been convinced. 

“Like, if you got a job there and an apartment nearby, maybe?” he adds. Meaning: _as long as you don’t live in your truck anymore_. Anything but that. 

But, oh, there’s the shutdown. The neutral expression flickering back onto Theo’s face like he had briefly forgotten to be as unreadable as possible. He shifts, eyes flitting over to the window. 

This boy, controlled. This boy, freed from that control. This boy, withdrawing at the prospect of being controlled again. Not an anchor, but a leash. 

Maybe that’s what it was always about. Living life on his own terms. 

“Wonder where I’ll head next. Was thinking of driving to Utah,” Theo replies, mean grin on his face but sadness in his eyes. He’s getting back on script. “Maybe I’ll check out Canyonlands, or something.”

It’s one of those things that means he won’t see Theo for a long time. There’s a wreckage in Liam’s chest. He wonders if there’s a way to turn it off, to make this wanting stop for good. 

“That’s not fair,” he argues. “You can’t―you can’t do that! Expect me to go with you and not want to do the same for me. Not if...not if you mean it. Not if you want to be with me.” 

“Do you want me to leave?” Theo asks, sharp eyes boring into him. 

“Do you want to stay?” 

(Stay here, his life. Here, his thoughts. Here, with Liam.) 

Silence. If heartbreak made a noise, maybe that’d be it. 

“Listen,” Liam deflates, deep-rooted exhaustion seeping into his tone, “Just...c’mon, let’s go to sleep. You can leave in the morning, I don’t care.” 

Theo’s mouth opens, closes, opens again. His jaw clicks shut and he offers a hesitant nod, sliding beneath the covers with Liam, who flicks off the lamp on his bedside table. Bodies curled around each other, tandem breathing like they can’t even do that without each other. Liam strokes the short hairs at the nape of Theo’s neck, tries to imagine what it’ll look like the next time they’re together. 

When dawn breaks, Liam isn’t roused by a cold, half-empty bed or a drafty room that feels too big. He wakes up to Theo gently tugging at his wrist, pulling him over to the window through which the early rays of the sun are just beginning to beam. His expression is soft, sleep-dazed. Ethereal pink glow from the light streaming in. 

“You’re s’posed to be watching the sunrise, not me,” Theo huffs, a grin spilling across his lips that carries none of its usual edge when he glances at Liam. 

Liam flushes, mumbling, “Sorry.” 

Theo pulls out his phone and takes a picture. Stares down at it for a moment like the real thing isn’t still right in front of him. This, too, something he wants to remember. 

“I missed you,” Liam whispers, like a secret. Like an incantation. Like a prayer. 

There’s something sentimental in Theo’s eyes when he says, “Me too.” 

Theo leans closer, caressing a thumb against Liam’s bottom lip before he bridges the gap between them. The type of kiss full of unspoken thoughts and gentle goodbyes. One worth remembering. He presses his lips once more against Liam’s hairline, before he slips out of the window. Liam doesn’t watch him leave, can’t. Just listens for the sound of his truck, the sound of departure. 

It doesn’t hurt as bad this time. 

(Or maybe Liam’s gotten used to the ache.)

*

_-Weird thing to cross the stage @ graduation n have the classmates tht tried to kill me last year applaud like nothing happened_

_-Just BH things, ig_

_-Congrats, you should be proud_

*

“I don’t understand. Move-in is today. You both have had this date saved for months!” Liam argues. 

“Li, honey, it can’t be helped that David was called into the E.R.,” Jenna counters, voice lowered in an attempt to soothe the rage simmering beneath her son’s skin. “There was a 7-car pileup on the freeway. They need all hands on deck at the hospital.” 

“I―ugh, dammit,” Liam growls, slamming his palms against the kitchen counter. 

It’s the cherry on top of a shit sundae. He’d overslept by an hour and a half this morning, couldn’t find the bag he packed with all of his lacrosse things, burnt his eggs while stepping away from the stove to look for the bag, and now, he has no ride to campus thanks to his stepfather taking the truck to work.

Jenna steps forward, rubbing a hand against Liam’s back. 

“Move-in is today _and_ tomorrow,” she reminds him. “And you’re going early for lacrosse. Your roommate probably won’t even be there.” 

“My roommate is also a lacrosse player,” he grumbles. He was hoping to arrive on campus early and pick his side of the room. (He still, even now, wants to sleep beside a window. Force of habit, perhaps.)

Liam trails his gaze over to the hodgepodge of luggage and boxes beside the front door. His life inside them. There’s a solid, bitter lump inside his chest that feels like moving on. The pack, those in town, had thrown him a going away party last night. It was nice. Warm. Sappy, even. But there’s an unshakeable melancholy in the act of spouting off goodbyes to the most important people in your life. 

(An unshakeable melancholy in knowing that not all of the people you want to say goodbye to are there to hear it.) 

Maybe he learned to so deeply hate this town and the shit that happens in it that he came out on the other side of it. Came out on the other side and fell into something like love. Something like love, but not it. Something that’ll hit him most when he’s introducing himself to new people and feels a pang in his chest at the mention of his hometown. He wonders how he'll connect with people that have never felt death on their heels. 

“It’s okay to be nervous. About leaving,” Jenna murmurs. 

“I’m _not_ nervous!”

The denial would probably be more believable if it hadn’t come out as a roar accompanied with a flash of golden eyes. Jenna reflexively takes a step backward, lips pursed as she glances toward the door. 

“Take a walk, go calm down,” she says after a breath. A reassuring smile spreads onto her face. “I have a feeling you’ll be alright.” 

Liam offers a jerky nod, trudging over toward the door with his stormy cloud of chemosignals and half-expecting his mom to lock it behind him. He startles just after stepping out onto the porch, wide-eyed and stock-still. His breath catches in his throat, comes out as a wheezy exhale.

“Oh.” 

Funny thing, the way anger dissipates, how the churning in Liam’s gut is replaced by a violent fluttery sensation that crawls all the way to his throat. 

There’s a bright blue Toyota pick-up truck at the end of the driveway, and an even brighter boy with scruffy hair and a nervous grin resting against its hood. And he doesn’t look tired or lost or even the slightest bit lifeless. He shifts on his feet, gazing timidly at Liam from beneath his thick lashes as if the beta knows how to be anything other than thrilled to see him here, now. 

There’s a summer blooming between them, Liam thinks, and a familiar routine dying behind it, he hopes. Stifle all the instinctual doubt and disbelief and yeah, he’s alright. He’s more than alright. 

(This―Liam, here, Theo, with him―feels like an unlucky town’s apology for the past four years of bullshit. Or a parting gift. Or maybe a dream. He hopes it’s not a dream. He hopes it’s something that lasts longer than that.)

“Hi,” Theo speaks, just loud enough for Liam to hear from the doorstep. Something oddly vulnerable in his voice when he asks, “Need a ride?” 

**Author's Note:**

> y'all ever stay up til three a.m and write fanfiction instead of starting final papers, lolz 😳 but anyway, thank you so much for reading!! I'm still getting the hang of writing shorter shit...it's odd and I feel a bit clumsy. but I like doing it. I think?? Hope you enjoyed, I'd greatly appreciate comments/kudos if you feel so obliged 💕


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